


Hell in High Heels

by spoilersweetie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilersweetie/pseuds/spoilersweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The Doctor is being hit on in a bar; River comes to his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell in High Heels

**Author's Note:**

> I came across some AU prompts on tumblr and one sparked a fic: 'pretending to be somebody's other half because someone was hitting on them in a bar and they looked very uncomfortable au' 
> 
> Probably goes without saying but this is an AU in which everybody is a normal human being :)

“Stop looking so uncomfortable - can you at least pretend you’re having fun for me?” Amy whines as she pushes the Doctor up to the bar, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t see why I should pretend to be enjoying myself when you _dragged_ me -”

“Oh shush. I’m hitting the ladies, order me a drink yeah?”

“Wait - Amy don’t leave me on my own -!”

She strides off and the Doctor glances around helplessly, wringing his hands in front of him. This was the last time he ever let his best friend talk him into one of her idea’s of a ‘night out.’

“Hello handsome.”

He spins to find a  tall woman with sleek dark brown hair and deep red lips smiling at him widely where she leans back against the bar beside him.

He glances around. “Hello me?”

She giggles. “Yes, _you_.” Her eyes rake over him from head to toe, slowly and in a way that makes him squirm uncomfortably.

“Um… hello,” he says, raising a hand in an awkward wave.

She licks her lips. “Buy me a drink?”

“Oh,” the Doctor stammers, surprised, “Um, actually -”

She leans in. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Erm -” he lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m just - just waiting for a friend actually…”

“Perfect, me too,” she says. “How about a dance while we wait and you can buy me that drink after if you’d prefer?”

“Uhh…” a bit panicked, his eyes dart about. “I don’t really dance,” he tries.

Sliding bold fingertips up over the lapels of his jacket, she presses herself close to him as he tries to lean away. “I can show you some moves,” she suggests. “I’m good on my feet.” She leans up on her tiptoes to speak into his ear. “And I’m even better off them.”

The Doctor lets out a squeak, and plucks the hand from his jacket with another nervous laugh. “All the same, I’m not sure I -”

“Oh come on… one little dance?”

He starts to sweat. “Well, I - not that you’re not very lovely, it’s just that I -”

“Hello sweetie.”

The Doctor jumps, blinking in shock as another woman with a mass of blonde curls sidles up to him on the other side and slips her hand round his waist, standing straight up on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

He blinks at her.

“Who’s this?” The dark haired woman leans in to ask.

“This?” He looks back and forth between them, at a loss. “Uh - I -”

“I’m his wife,” the curly-haired woman replies, leaning into him and staring the other woman down pointedly. “And you are?”

“Oh,” the woman visibly deflates. “I’m - we just met - I - he didn’t say he had a wife,” she says, a frown on her face.

“He does.”

“Right. Well… I was just leaving…”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

With a lingering glance at the Doctor, the woman turns and moves away from them. He lets out a sigh of relief, before whirling to face the other woman, still not entirely sure what had just happened. He blinks at her.

“Who are you?”

She bats her eyelashes at him. “What do you mean honey? I’m your wife,” she purrs, eyes gleaming.

He glances round at the retreating brunette then back at the woman with curls, his mouth open. “No, but you - did you just…?”

She leans in, her voice low and smooth as honey. “You’re welcome,” she says, and with a wink turns to sashay off.

The Doctor stares for a moment before he jolts to life. “Wait,” he says, and darts round in front of her before she can leave.

She stops, surprised, and looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Erm…” now in front of her, he doesn’t know what exactly he’d been planning to do he just - hadn’t wanted her to leave… he shoves a hand through his hair and tries for a smile. “Let me buy you a drink - to, to say thank you,” he offers.

The woman narrows her eyes a little and stares up at him a moment before she shrugs, face breaking into a smile. “Okay.”

He lets her order, and two glasses a quarter full of amber coloured liquid are placed down in front of them. He hands the money over to the bartender and tucks his wallet back into his back pocket, before lifting a glass to his lips and sniffing it suspiciously.

“Not a whiskey drinker?” Comes the amused voice from beside him.

“Not really,” he says, watching as the woman sips from her own glass. He tries a sip and pulls a face, wincing as it burns its way down his throat and he hastily puts down the glass, his eyes watering as he coughs a bit.

The woman laughs, and when he glances over at her she throws her head back and downs the rest of her drink in one go. He gapes.

She places the empty glass on the bar, licking her lips.

“You don’t look like you come to places like this often,” she says, eyebrow raised in what he assumes is amusement.

“No,” the Doctor shakes his head. “I don’t often. Ever, really. Not really my sort of - you know - thing, if I’m honest.”

She laughs. “Why are you here then?”

“My friend Amy wanted to come out.”

“Girlfriend?”

 _“Noo,_ ” he says, a little horrified at the idea. “No, no - Amy’s a friend. Not a girlfriend. I mean she’s a girl - and she’s a friend but she’s not _my_ \- she’s - Rory,” he stammers to explain.

That perfectly sculpted eyebrow is raised in amusement again. “She’s Rory?”

“No no, not her, she’s not Rory she’s Amy she - she _has_ a Rory. Husband. Rory’s a husband.”

“Right,” the woman says grinning, reaching over to pick up his glass and take a sip. “And you?”

He blinks at her. “And me what?”

“Do you have a Rory?”

 _“Oh_ \- I - no. No, no. Just me.”

“Good,” she smirks.

“Is it?”

Sparkling eyes on his as she takes a sip of the drink, she shrugs one shoulder.

“Me either,” she says when she puts the glass down.

“You either what?”

She laughs. “I don’t have a Rory.”

“Would you like one?” The Doctor blurts out and then his eyes widen and he lets out a squeak. “I’m sorry - that’s not what I meant - I, I didn’t mean, I mean I wasn’t _offering_ , because well, we just met and that would be _insane,_ I was just -”

“Yes,” she interrupts him in that low purring voice.

He halts mid-sentence, blinking at her. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she grins.

“Wait - hang on - do you mean yes, you would like one or - or did you think _I_ \- and you meant -”

She leans in, smirk on her lips. “ _Yes.”_

He stares at her, half in love already.

“Who are you?”

The woman simply smiles up at him, and steps in a bit closer and - the next thing he knows she places a small gentle hand on his shoulder, leans up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his.

The touch takes him by surprise, and he inhales sharply against her lips, frozen momentarily, as her soft lips gently caress his and blood rushes in his ears, the music fading around them as everything disappears except this mysterious, enchanting woman, placing him under her spell with a kiss -

She steps back, and suddenly everything rushes back into focus, the Doctor stumbling forwards a little and having to catch himself on the bar as his lips chase hers. He blinks, and just sees a flash of curls disappearing into the crowd; she’s gone.

He looks around frantically, standing up on his toes and trying to search the heads of the busy bar for blonde curls but she seems to have all but vanished into thin air. Deflating, he slumps back against the bar, lifting a hand to touch his fingertips to his lips. He turns back to the bar, eyes falling on the empty glass with a red liptsick print on the rim and he reaches out and closes his fingers round the glass.

“Can I get you another there?”

The bartenders voice makes him jump, and he looks up, quickly shaking his head. “No, no, that’s alright I just…” he eyes the liptsick print on the glass and glances back up. “Actually I will have another. One of these.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender nods.

He places the drink in front of him a moment later and holds out his hand, and the Doctor sighs and reaches into his pocket for his wallet and…

His eyes widen, and then he whips round to stare after the woman who’d disappeared only moments before.

 _Oh, that_ little - !

\--

Two different venues later (he’d begged to go home after the wallet stealing incident but Amy wouldn’t hear of it - after bailing him out at the bar she’d claimed more drinks were in order after his misadventure and he’d grudgingly followed after her) they meet up with Amy’s Rory as he finishes his late shift at the bar he works at, and the Doctor is finally able to escape. He bids his friends good night and makes towards the exit when something suddenly attracts his attention - a mass of blonde curls moving through the crowd.

“Hey!” He calls out - but of course over the noise of the music it is pointless, and he elbows his way through the people milling about, certain it _can’t be_ \- when suddenly she turns, and those green eyes lock with his and widen in recognition.

“Wait -” He calls.

She spins, darting off through the crowd and the Doctor chases after her, determined not to lose sight of her, keeping his eye on curls over the top of the heads - he knocks into somebody with a drink and they curse and shove him angrily, and he spins to apologise, whirling back round and - she’s gone - but there’s a door up ahead and its the only escape near by so pushing his way through the crowd he finally reaches it and bursts through it to -

An empty alleyway. Panting, he throws his hands up in the air in frustration. She’d been so close and she’d managed to slip away _again_ and now he would never find her -

The fire exit door bursts open again and a figure barrels out, heels loud on the cobbled pavement until she stops short, a gasp catching in her throat as they lock eyes.

She spins, but he is faster this time, lurching forward and grabbing her arm before she can escape. He swings her round and pins her to the wall beside the door, throwing all his weight against her to hold her.

“Let go!” She spits, trying to wrench herself free of his grasp. The Doctor stills her against the wall with a hand on her hip, the other hand clamped round her wrists, trapping them between them. She thrashes angrily for a few moments before she realises he has her well and truly pinned and she goes still, staring up at him with blazing green eyes, both of them panting hard.

“You stole my wallet,” he says.

“I have a gun strapped to my thigh and a guarantee you I can grab it and kill you in half a second before you’ve even realised I’ve moved.”

“You mean this one?” He dangles it up by her head.

Her eyes widen and she gapes, trying to glance downwards.

“How did you -!?”

Quickly checking the safety is on, the Doctor tosses it over his shoulder and safely out of reach. “Why did you take it?”

She clenches her jaw, staring up him defiantly. She makes to jolt out of his grasp again but he holds tight to her. She huffs. “It was just too easy not to.”

He frowns at her. “That’s a terrible reason for doing something.”

“Well what were you expecting?”

“I’d hoped you might be - I don’t know - starving or something.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like a girl who’s underfed?”

He eyes the impressive decolletage currently heaving against his chest and gulps. “No, I suppose not.”

She gasps, looking hurt. “Are you calling me fat?”

“What?” His eyes widen. “No - no, no,” he scrambles to backtrack in a panic, “I just meant - you’re just - not _fat_ \- you’re just all -”

She snorts, and he stops mid sentence when he realises she’s laughing. _Laughing_ in his face, her green eyes dancing with amusement.

“Oh sweetie, you’re too easy,” she tells him

He frowns at her. “I’m not your sweetie.”

“Would you like to be?” She purrs, and grinds her hips against his, making him falter and gasp, almost losing his grip on her before he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing and presses her tighter against the wall, arranging his face into a suitably stern expression.

“I just want my wallet back.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Nice try.”

She frowns, makes one more attempt to wriggle from his grasp then goes limp between him and the wall.

 _“Fine,”_ she huffs dramatically in defeat. “It’s in my inside pocket.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, the Doctor carefully ensures he’s holding tightly to both wrists before moving back enough to slide his free hand between them. He fumbles around on the inside of her trench coat for a pocket.

“Other side,” she drawls.

Eyeing her, the Doctor moves his hand to the other side, and she arches her back as he does so, causing his hand to brush her chest.

 _“Oh,_ ” she breathes. “If you wanted to cop a feel all you had to do was ask.”

“I - ! That was _you_ ,” he squeaks, huffing when she bats her eyelashes at him innocently and he _\- finally_ \- locates the jackets inside pocket and dips his hand in to find his wallet. Pulling it out triumphantly, he uses his weight to press her against the wall again as he awkwardly fumbles to open it with one hand, checking inside to make sure everything is there.

He looks up at her, a frown on his face. “There was fifty quid in here!”

“I was starving,” she says.

“No you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she agrees. “But I was thirsty. Bar tabs are so ridiculously expensive these days don’t you agree?”

“You spent it,” he states.

She shrugs a shoulder. “Guilty.” Her lips curve into a smirk. “But feel free to search me to make sure.”

His eyes widen and he tries not to glance downwards. “Are you like this with everyone?” He asks, bemused.

“What?”

 _“Impossible,”_ he huffs out.

She smirks. “Dinner?”

Knocked off track yet again, he blinks. “What?”

“I’ll pay you back,” she offers, “With dinner.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Really,” he says, not believing her for a moment.

“Yes. Tomorrow. Alfredo’s. You know the place?”

“Yes,” he nods, distracted enough that he lets her wriggle from his grasp and slip from between him and the wall.

“Excellent. Eight o’clock?” She says as she saunters over to scoop her gun off the ground, turning to face him as she lifts her dress and slips it back into it’s holster on her thigh.

Tearing his eyes from her smooth tanned leg he stares up at her. “No - I mean yes, I know the place - not yes I’ll have dinner with you! I don’t even know you and you - you stole my wallet!”

“I know. Which is why I’m buying you dinner.”

“That’s a terribly reason to buy someone dinner. You should buy someone dinner because you want to buy them dinner - not because you stole from them and you feel bad!”

“I don’t feel bad,” she says, “I just want to buy you dinner.”

His eyebrows shoot upwards. “You do?”

She lets out a laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Wait, what!?” He calls out as she turns to walk off. “I don’t even know your name!”

By the end of the alleyway she turns, a smirk on her lips. “Come to dinner with me then and I’ll tell you.”

“What? But I -”

With a wink, she is gone.

\--

 _Of course_ he hadn’t expected her to show up. He has no idea why he even bothered coming - there was absolutely no way the woman who stole from him was planning on buying him dinner tonight - he wasn’t born yesterday.

He tugs at his bowtie, eyeing the menu in front of him nervously. Why had he come? It’s only going to be very awkward and embarrassing when he has to walk back out alone soon. Either that or he’ll have to stay and eat dinner alone which since he’d already told the waiter he was waiting for somebody isn’t gonig to be any less embarrassing. Stupid. _Stupid_ Doctor. She’s probably off somewhere, laughing right now at the thought of him sitting here all alone and stupidly waiting for her to show up, the little hellcat -

“Hello sweetie.”

A handbag plops down onto the table, and he looks up, staring as the curly haired woman shrugs off her coat and throws it onto the back of the chair before sitting down across from him and watching him with a calm little smirk on her lips.

He opens and closes his mouth twice before he can talk.

“Hi. Hello…?” He trails off, and she reaches out a hand across the table.

“River,” she says. “River Song.”

He raises an eyebrow as he slips his hand into hers. “Seriously?”

“Says the man who goes by ‘the Doctor’,” she snorts a little as they shake hands.

“You have a fair point,” he says as he drops her hand and - “Wait - how do you know my name!?”

She grins as she casually lifts her menu, “I make it my business to know the name of the man I’m going to marry. Wine?”

“Yes - no - er - _marry?”_

“You asked.”

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide. “No, I wasn’t -”

“But you did,” she sings as she eyes the menu.

“No I didn’t! Of course I didn’t - why would I ask you to marry me, I don’t even know you - I don’t even _like_ you!”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t!”

She looks up over the top of her menu, eyes sparkling. “Then why did you come?”

“You owed me dinner.”

“I owed you fifty quid. I _offered_ you dinner.”

He narrows his eyes at her laughing ones. “I don’t want to marry you, you’re… you’re _hell,”_ he says, pointing an accusing finger, and adds, “in high heels.”

She smiles, delighted, “Thank you sweetie,” she says, giving him a wink before looking back down at her menu.

\--

They are married six months later.

 

 


End file.
